Back to Wolf's Ear
Warshawski There was a lot of silence on the trip back to Wolf's Ear. Bacarov didn't seem to feel like talking and the prisoners were grim and quiet. Well, the ones who weren't gagged. Everyone had their eyes open. Bandits wouldn't care if their fellow criminals where bound up tight. That would just make them easier targets and Bacarov and I would be hard pressed to defend them, or ourselves, against a large group. I say there was silence. That's not exactly true. Spirits circled the gnome like vultures circled a carcass. Each whispering and begging, needing justice. Needing to see the man that lead them to their death find punishment in this world and, perhaps, the next. "He's done this before." I said to Bacarov, speaking to the living in hopes of drowning out the dead. "Led a group out on some ugly job and gotten them killed. Maybe even killed them himself so he could keep the loot. The dead are sticking to him like flies on dog s@+&. I'm guessing he's got several outstanding warrants." GM The march back to Wolf's Ear is a peaceful one. Neither of your prisoners gives you any trouble along the way; the Professor, for instance, says not a word, though that is mostly thanks to the gag that remains in his mouth. The small town is easy to navigate, and you have no trouble finding the local garrison, though you do attract a few odd stares considering the pair of prisoners being tugged along behind you. The captain of the garrison, Rhett Malfoight, is a stern-looking young man with short-cropped hair. He quickly approaches as you enter the garrison, having been summoned by his subordinates as soon as you approached. He gives a quick salute in greeting."Captain Malfoight. What's going on here? First time I've seen somebody drag a gnome in here," he says, staring at the Professor. "You must have one hell of a story to tell. I'm expecting a damned good explanation for this." Sebastian Bacarov Bacarov offers a salute to the captain's rank and produces his badge. "City Watch Inspector Sebastian Bacarov. In the course of a missing person's investigation, my group ran across a party of poachers. They'd been tracking a juvenile drake through the forest." He gestures to the two humans who are bound and gagged, providing their names. "These tw o have been cooperative as noted in my brief. The last is Nettleby Brackenweld, the ring leader who hired these men and others." On the road, Bacarov had made a copy of his report to pass along, he does so now. "The two men are to be charged with illegal poaching and banditry and accessory to murder. However their cooperation in my eyes should be sufficient to commute the death sentence. However, the gnome is to be charged with conspiracy to commit murder, murder in multiple acts with heinous intent, and undisclosed cult activity and organ trafficking." He nods to the bindings covering the gnome's eyes mouth and ears. "He is a magic-user and in my impression a ritualist. A mage-cap for sensory deprivation is of the utmost importance." "My party presses on to Ravrnmoor to complete my original task. My hopes here are two fold, that these prisoners are delivered to Magnimar on your next rotation. And that this message be delivered by raven as soon as possible." He hands a tiny leather scroll case for attaching to a courier bird. "To be delivered to Commander Tacitus Olfrey." Warshawski "Warshawksi. Tax office inspector." I said, introducing myself to the guard captain after Bacarov had done his part. I pulled and showed the captain my badge as well. "If you have someone to spare, you should send a message to the mage college. They're missing a few people. Students, probably. Maybe teachers, too. You've got their murderers in your hands." I gave them all the hard eye. "And you'll want a cleric who specializes in healing to look at the gnome. He might be infected with something." GM Captain Malfoight listens to your story and nods, his eyes widening at the revelation of what the gnome has done. "Well, we'll see what the court says about these men dodgin' the noose, but your recommendation will count for a lot as the arresting officer, Inspector," he says. "As for this little psychopath, you can bet your butts we'll keep a nice muzzle on him. Don't want him throwin' fireballs around our prison. Thank you for bringing this to our attention, officers. Things get pretty crazy this close to that damned wood, but I had no idea anything like this was going on... Ugh, I'd hate to be the one to have to tell the Twilight Academy that they've got dead students out there." Several of his men come over and begin wrestling the captives into their cells. The Professor is given his own, and the Captain has one of the men fetch "the muzzle" from a closet. With more than one sword pressed to the man's neck, they secure the strange contraption to Nettleby Brackenweld's head and remove his gag. The gnome wears a strangely serene look on his face for a man who has just been imprisoned and is sure to get the death penalty. "That nice new hat of yours means no spells for you, you little creep," one of the officers says. "But don't think for a second that it's an invitation to start flappin' your lips. We don't like what we have to say, we'll stick you with the pointy end right now." Typical threats, likely not given with a great deal of seriousness, but the gnome shudders anyway. Captain Malfoight takes the two of you aside and goes over some basic paperwork, and has a secretary fetch payment for you- it turns out that Nettleby Brackenweld, alias Tomwell Brakindu, alias Tomarindi Parthenvalt, has not only quite the rap sheet, but a fair bounty hovering over his head as well. The surviving brigands also have outstanding warrants as well, in Wolf's Ear proper no less. "I'd say you struck gold stumbling across these men," the Captain starts, "but that would seem fairly tasteless considering the severity of the crimes. We'll get a team out to that research outpost immediately to look into it, and I'll send that raven out to your friends in Magnimar straight away." As you are leaving the garrison, you overhear a bit of a bustle as one of the officers you saw earlier practically smashes his way into the Captain's office. "It's the gnome, Captain! Come quick!" The Captain rushes after him, and audibly groans when he reaches the Professor's cell. I'm assuming you'd follow. The Professor lies dead in his cell, blood oozing from his head, still wrapped up in the mage-muzzle. "He wasn't in there but for a minute before he started bashin' his own head against the bars. Killed himself. Must'a known he was gonna hang for what he done," the officer says. "He was mutterin' some crap before he died. Somethin' about whispers." From the cell across the hall, one of the arrested brigands- Vikas- goes to the bars. "I know what he said," he offers. "Crazy bastard. I've heard him say that crap before. 'I hear the whispers; I know the way.' It was like his personal mantra or something. He said it before he cut those kids' hearts out, too." "The hell," the Captain mutters, biting the tip of his thumb. "I don't like when this cult-y stuff gets thrown my way. More and more stuff like this been happenin' lately, all over Varisia. Why can't we just ship all these crazies off to Ustalav?" He turns back to the two of you and sighs. "Listen, we'll find out if this guy was infected with something- you men, don't touch that blood! Get somebody from the temple down here, right away! Anyway, you two are free to get back to your missing persons case. Don't worry about this anymore. My team will get to the bottom of this." Sebastian Bacarov Bacarov watches the blood pool beneath the dead gnome. "Bit of a pain when they fear disclosure more than death." He glances Warshawski's way, raises an eyebrow. "Anything?" You know what I'm asking and I'm sorry...but is he floating around somewhere? He considers anything in his case loads regarding the phrase, 'I hear the whispers; I know the way'. Perhaps an old car with a cultist tint. Then he considers the aliases. (knowledge roll below) "Have your cleric see to his disposition quickly. But I'd like to examine the body now if you don't mind. Is there a private place we can use?" ---- Bacarov, with Warshawski if she's willing, sets about examining the gnomes body and personal effects. He searches for tattoos, ritualistic carvings/branding in places normally hidden by clothing. After a thorough search, and if anything is find, he applies local knowledge, minimal anatomy skills and his grasp of the arcana to assess any findings. Lastly, he puts quill to parchment and writes his note: Commander Olfrey, We've find a group of poachers lead by a gnome magic-user. All are fugitives with the latter of particular interest. Of the group, two survive with the killed and the gnome committing suicide. Signs of cultist activity, gnome after drake organs and witnessed in the slaughter of students at the Twilight Academy outpost 'Estuary'. Evidence and prisoners forthcoming. Gnome used following names; Nettleby Brackenweld, Tomwell Brakindu, Tomarindi Parthenvalt. And spoke this phrase before suicide; 'I hear the whispers; I know the way.' Suggest you involve Marcum Aldridge on that topic. Pressing on to Ravenmoor. Sebastian Bacarov, Inspector City Watch Warshawski I didn't want to see the gnonme's soul. I didn't want to see the ugliness that might be laid bare once corrupted spirit was released from disgusting body. But that doesn't mean I shouldn't try. GM Warshawski keeps her eyes peeled for any sign of the Professor's spirit, but it is already long gone. Perhaps his actions guaranteed it some place in the afterlife and delivered it accordingly upon death; it is hard to say. Bacarov and Warshawski put their heads together and rack their brains in search of some way of making sense of all this. Brackenweld's body bears no unusual tattoos or ritual markings; in fact, the only things you find unusual are the signs of burst blood vessels under the skin on either side of his neck. They look like, for all intents and purposes, hickies. Going through his personal effects, you find little else of note. He did not seem to keep much on his person. There does not seem to be any particular magical aura coming from him or his belongings, either. The phrase, however, could bear fruit. "I hear the whispers; I know the way," is similarly phrased to a line from a very old book known as the Pnakotic Manuscripts: "Listen now to the whispers from on high, and you shall know the way." Neither of you has ever read the Pnakotic Manuscripts, nor are there believed to be any surviving copies of the texts, but it is a topic of debate among scholars of the occult, known to be associated with "the Old Cults." It also brings to mind the mysterious organization known as the Whispering Way, worshipers of undeath active mostly in Ustalav. That said, you know of no connection between the Manuscripts and the Whispering Way. There are many sorts of bizarre forces and extraplanar beings that corrupt mortal beings through their faith: demons, devils, and all sorts of fiends, as well as stranger beings still. Identifying what exact manner of force had corrupted the professor- assuming, of course, that he does not turn out to have simply been crazy- would require an exhaustive process of elimination requiring more information than you currently have... but the Professor does not particularly strike either of you as a worshiper of demons, at least considering what you know of such cultists. There's some element missing here, even if you have yet to stumble across it. Warshawski spends a while rolling the phrase around on her tongue in search of double-meanings in any other languages. In some obscure tongues, 'whisper' is often used in reference to divine messages, particularly instructions; 'the way' only reinforces this impression, implying that the deeper meaning behind the words are that the speaker has received instructions from some higher power and is acting according to their divine will. As she continues her thoughts, she becomes certain of this conclusion. The Road Back Sebastian Bacarov It's a quiet walk. Bacarov is thankful to Warshawski for the silence while he sorts through the last few hours. What had started out as a missing persons case had become a window to the past. Warshawski makes mention of the spirits hovering around the gnome and he nods, unsurprised. "His sort of evil begets that kind of attention. Tell them he'll get what's coming to him, on both sides of the veil. Dirtbags like this, they never realize the gains they reap here turn bad on the other side. Eventually they all burn." The specters of the past loom large as he contemplates the horrors the gnome most likely dabbled within. He changes the subject when he speaks again. "I think you know my father's a Watchman. Twenty-eight years on the job. Did I ever tell you my mother's a priestess at the Abadaran temple?" At Warshawski's silent head shake he continues. "I suppose if I got my respect for the law from my father, I got my love for it from my mother. If it'd been left to me, I'd have rejected the Inspector's division and stayed with the Watch. But she convinced me Abadar had other ideas. How does that old saying go? 'If you want to make the gods laugh, tell them your plans.'" Bacarov chuckles and continues. "Over the years, her and the church have kept me sane as the work became more and more grim. Without them, I think I'd have gone Marsh's path long ago." He raises a hand, knowing what the man's name prompted in Warshawski. "It might change things, it might not...but hear me out." He takes a deep breath and continues, falling into his mode of storytelling that normally earned him free drinks from the local Watch grunts. "Marsh was a Watchman, a brutal one, but a good one. He went after the worst of the worst. Where I investigated the who of the crime, his division would take that information and get proactive. That all ended when the job followed him home..." ---- It's over a year ago and he's standing over the mutilated corpses of a family. Sebastian's holding a leathery mask in his hands, the flickering torches held by the officers on the scene casting only hints as to the hideous materials put into making it. In the background, there's a man roaring in rage and grief and utter despair; the wails of the living drowning in the wake of the dead. Bacarov's face is impassive, he's searching the scene before his own emotions get the better of him. Blood, so much blood! It caused him to wonder if the killer had brought in some just to muddy the scene. Later he'd confirm that theory. The extra blood played havoc with the wizards and their rituals. This scene of unimaginable horror is where he meets Vincent Marsh. It's his family's blood staining the cobblestones red. It's his anguish peeling back the last few layers of decency in a man who'd already seen too much. Weeks go by, blood and echoes haunting Bacarov as he hunts for the killers responsible. Marsh is a stone, all emotion now covered over in silence. He doesn't help. Bacarov knows the type, a hypothesis reinforced by Marsh's jacket in the Watch. If Bacarov is to solve the case, he'd have to stay one step ahead of a man bent on vengeance. It isn't that the inspector blames the guy, but no matter the horror of a crime, he believed that responding with justice kept the soul of a man clean. Justice is blind, it deals retribution in a manner only the truly impartial can understand. Revenge is too narrow, rarely does it see the forest rotting as it chops down a single tree. The case is Bacarov's first run in with the Seven. Rumors abounded of a secret society of thrill-kill cultists dedicated to Father Skinsaw, but the mask in his possession leads him down a path of terrible confirmation. Leaning on a contact out of Absalom, Bacarov discovers that the mask is woven from human flesh, processed multiple times to make it less obvious. It's features are the stuff of nightmares. He lives with the certain truth that Marsh's family's last view of this world had been a group of men bearing this horrific visage. In the end, passed the blood and the lies and the whispered secrets, Bacarov found his key. There'd been a disconnect between the scene of the crime and Marsh. How in the Scales of Abadar had Vinnie shown up in the crossbow sights of the Seven? These guys are organized, terribly so given their macabre passions. So why the family of a cop who worked his beat? It isn't until Bacarov is given clearance to review Marsh's caseload. Months later, he discovers Marsh had unlocked that key himself. Maybe Sebastian's progress had spooned out a measure of trust in the hurting man. In the case files, Bacarov finds a name. A piece in the puzzle that finally links the Seven's activities to the Marsh crime scene. Korisal Splitknuckle. A dwarf of particularly nasty proclivities and vengeful temperament. Marsh had singlehandedly brought down one of his most lucrative operations. What Marsh had not known, Korisal was a member of the Seven. While not selling slaves in the blackmarket, he'd been a supplier to the Skinsaws for their rituals. The arrest is swift. Bacarov had found the connection and gathered his arresting officers in the same night. A week behind bars and Korisal is found dead in his cell, guts spilled and ritualistic runes scrawled beneath him. The scene made worse when it is confirmed that his wounds and the drawings were done by Korisal himself. ---- Bacarov returns to the present and looks Warshawski's way. "I guess my work on the case earned Marsh's trust. He shows up one night in a local tavern, buys me a drink, then proceeds to tell me about his family. He's a different man...boisterous and laughing and affable. By the end of the night I've found a friend who's seen the horrors of the street and survived. The months go by and I'm finding the deeper meaning of Vincent Marsh. He sees me as family, the only one he's got. So he watches my back when he's not hold up in Lowcleft watching over a grimy bar like a bruising paladin." He stuffs his hands into his pockets and a great sadness comes over the Detective. "That night at the pub, it was my only glimpse at the man he'd been before the murders. I've never seen that guy again. Sure he's joked and we've grown to be more like brothers than anything. But I've never seen him smile like that again." "Look Warshawski, I don't tell you this to earn him pity. I just know, you're like me, every case that crosses our desks needs perspective." Warshawski I listened to the story. It was sad. It maybe explained a lot. I felt for Marsh. I really did. The Skinsaws were a blight on Magnimar. Boogeymen who twisted my stomach with fear and disgust and anger every time I thought about them. Now was no exception. They were the worst intelligent life had to offer. To lose your family to them? I can't imagine what that would do to someone's mind. To their soul. "He has a choice." I pick my words carefully, grabbing and discarding them like clothing on date night until I find the right ones. "The way he talks to me or other women, is that the way he'd want someone to talk to his daughter? Would he want his wife to see what he did? Because she might. They might all still be around. I hope not. I hope they've gone their way to a better place but they could be watching as he drags himself into darkness. Until he becomes what killed them. He's the only one who can stop himself, Bacarov. And I won't stand down and pretend a hard luck story excuses what he's done or what he said. He has a choice. But I am sorry. Someday, I hope we can hang every Skinsaw that ever lived. I'll even chip in to import tines from Cheliax." WarshawskiCategory:Gameplay Threads I said my peace. I let it go for a while. Just him and me walking along. Then I had to say something else. "I know what your oath means." I wanted him to know that I did. "And that you made it... hell. I don't know. I don't want to prove Marsh right. I'm not trying to manipulate you but..." I leaned over and kissed Bacarov on the cheek. "Don't tell anyone. Got it? Sebastian Bacarov There'd been a lot to say and with the events of Wolf's Ear so fresh, Bacarov wasn't sure which trail of thought he should follow. A sadistic gnome with murder in his heart polarized his own oaths of loyalty to Mash. Even psychopaths have loyalty...even loyalty unto death. ''The image of blood oozing from Nettlby's head mixed with the memory of gore dripping from Vinnie's weapon. But then he sees Marsh laughing and carrying on about his family. ''No, my loyalty's not misplaced... He's deep in thought when she speaks up again. Then she graces his cheek with a kiss as though to seal her understanding. His first instinct is guilt, thoughts of Vandana back in the city. Cork it, moron. She's never said boo any of the times you've asked her to dinner... "Not a word..not that it was a bad thing necessarily...." Bacarov is sure the embarrassment is clear on his face and coughs into his fist before speaking. "Thanks, I mean thanks for understanding," he responds, grinning at his own awkwardness."Uhm, look, things are going to get worse before they get better on this little caper. Our departed gnome is just the beginning..." He sighs and clasps his hands behind his back, the typical posture he assumes when plaguing out a tough case."I...guess what I'm trying to say is...I'm grateful you're in this too. You've got a good mind for things, sharp where I'm dull, affable where I'm too bullheaded..." A moment of silence as he searches for the right words. His cheek feels like it's on fire. He clears his throat again and puts away his embarrassment, allowing proper gravity to his next words,"We're a good team, I'm thankful you're here, Warshawski." He relaxes and chuckles. "I don't even know you're first name..." The unspoken question puts some distance between their place on the road and the uncomfortable revelations behind them in Wolf's Ear. I fear we'll need Marsh more than we'd either admit before this dark path reaches it's end. Warshawski We learned a lot in Wolf's Ear. None of it good. I had shared what I knew with Bacarov. He had shared what he had known. Dark cults worshipping who knows what possibly spreading a corruption. Well, f!$! me. Bacarov's reaction to a simple kiss on the cheek amused me but his words afterwards touched me. I knew he meant them. He rarely said anything he didn't mean. Not really. "We are a good team. You see things I don't. You're smarter than me. Know things I don't know... and I don't tell anyone my first name so you're in good company." Sebastian Bacarov Bacarov grins in response as they continue down the trail. Eventually they arrive at the point where the conflict had taken place. Not seeing tracks indicating anyone had emerged from the forest where the Estuary camp is located, he suggests they move a bit onward to find a secure place to hold up and wait for the others. In the mean time, he sets about structuring his notes and committing more details before his memory began adding bad information.